


Bad Company.

by Monaro



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Horror, Original Fiction, original horror - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:26:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23882983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monaro/pseuds/Monaro
Summary: A young man meets the most enchanting woman.I wrote this back in 2018, but decided to upload it here at last!





	Bad Company.

I’d been dragged along. I hadn’t wanted to go in the first place, but those two had twisted my arm. “You’ve always complained about how you’re lonely,” Sarah had said in English, “Well, if you went out more often, you wouldn’t feel so bad!”  
It was true- undeniable, even- that I spent a lot of time cooped up in my room; even though I considered myself rather extroverted, Sarah hadn’t heard from me in weeks. We’d met each other on campus, and found we were both gifted writers, and that got us talking. However, we’d drifted apart. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t as if we’d had a falling out! I’d just retreated back into my brooding state, encased in my tomb of model trains. I’d been up to my ears in schoolwork, and what spare time I did have, I funneled into my creative projects. Now, though, I found myself caught up, and burnt out on my writing. Sarah had caught wind of this, and suggested I come out with her and some friend, to see an indie film downtown. “You wanna be cultured, right? This is how you get that way!”  
Truth be told, I had no objections: The film, a callback to fifties new-wave cinema, seemed rather interesting, and I’ve always considered myself open to new adventures. Hell, the summer after high school, I rode the bus around the Olympic Peninsula in two days, just because I’d tired of my home and wanted to get away. The problem was, despite these occasional ramblings, I’ve always been quite stuck in my ways. Frankly, I still consider myself rather contradictory: I want to explore new things, but have trouble getting out of the house; I’m naturally extroverted and love meeting new people, but social situations often feel awkward. That’s reality, I suppose; nobody’s a cut-and-dry character. We’re all complex, living, breathing creatures.  
They’d told me to meet them at the Capitol Theater on 5th Avenue. It had been built in the twenties, and its faded, Gatsbyan glamour still shone bright in an otherwise dark and dirty part of Olympia. Its Art Deco marquee flashed in the night, its frieze adorned by vines engraved in generous bronze. Whereas the historic two-stories across the street had gained a dark green paint job with hippie flower graphics, the Capitol had remained relatively unmolested.  
I found Sarah with no trouble in the velvet lobby. The little blonde was sat on a bench by the wall, speaking to a slightly taller girl I’d seen at school before, but never spoke to. Truth be told, they were both shorter than me- a skinny kid at 6’1- but, the stranger was far taller than Sarah’s puny 5’4. When she saw me approaching, Sarah grinned and gave a wave. Her friend turned and simply stared, as if I was an intruder in their world.  
“Tex,” she started, “This is Skye; I’ve known her since middle school.”  
“Pleased to meet you.” I offered Skye my handshake, and she didn’t take it. She simply mumbled a greeting, and her dull blue gaze averted to her phone. Sarah assured me she was just being shy. After a long six seconds of silence, with both us two simply hovering by the bench, I tried to kickstart the conversation.  
“So, either of you know much about this movie?”  
Skye simply grunted again, but Sarah was more responsive. “Yeah, I read some reviews. None of the big papers picked it up, but the critics in the little film circles seem to like it.”  
“That’s the way with films like this, huh? They don’t get much publicity, so they don’t make headlines.”  
Sarah agreed. “It went to Sundance; I think it won a few awards there.”  
“I wouldn’t know, I don’t follow Sundance.”  
“Neither do I, but I did my research!”  
There was some more idle chatter- how are you doing, how’s class, etc,- before the premiere. Skye didn’t butt in much, and when she did, it was usually directed toward Sarah. I felt a little intimidated, as if there was some unspoken hostility behind it, but I couldn’t tell for sure. As we filed into the theater for the screening, I couldn’t help but feel I was being paranoid. It wouldn’t be the first time I didn’t understand. Could I be over analyzing the whole thing, blowing it out of proportion? Perhaps. More than likely, even.  
As the film rolled, we were greeted with a shot of a farm field, bisected horizontally by a bike trail. A cyclist began to ride across the screen, peddling gently with her dog running alongside. As magnificent as the shot was, I couldn’t help but look around the theater at the patrons. It was my nature to study people: What could I infer about them from the unspoken? As incompetent as I was, I couldn’t help but give it a shot; even if what I inferred was wrong, it was a fun exercise to pass the time.  
With the exception of Sarah, Skye and I, most of the patrons I could see from our high perch in the back were older. Many were in their mid-twenties, or even their thirties or forties; I noticed a lot of longer hair and a wide variety of clothes- the older ones wore pea coats and collared shirts, while the younger ones towed the line to something close to what a hippie would look like- lots of earthen colors and wool.. These were the college intellectuals and their professors, all denizens of Evergreen. These were people I’d see if I were to simply walk about the campus in my spare time. Politically active, often artistic, and socially progressive, I’d found them at the few protests I’d attended. As friendly as they were, I felt like a phony around them. I couldn’t match their intensity or drive.  
As always, the girls caught my eye. I hadn’t been in a serious romance since high school, and it had gotten harder to get out of my shell. But, that didn’t stop me from observing. The majority wore their earthen colors and some ahd dyed hair, but there was no general ‘rule’- They dressed a lot like the men, though fewer of them had their hair short. The Evergreen style was an androgynous one.  
But, there was an exception, right in front of me.  
Below me to the right, there sat not a girl, but a woman. Her facial features were thin, with wavy, long hair, down to her shoulders. As the colors of the screen splashed across her face, I could notice some eyeshadow, and dark-colored lips; she was wearing a dark dress of some sort, quite Victorian. She had dressed up to go out.

She was so out of place, I couldn’t have missed her; she seemed to be alone, sandwiched between an office worker on his phone and two androgynous Greeners, talking excitedly in hushed voices and gesturing at the screen. If she had come with somebody, she was as out-of-place as I (while Sarah and Company had dressed in their north face attire and leggings, I wore the same dusty flannel shirt and Wranglers I usually wore). I wondered if she was alone, if she felt like I did. Were those Greeners her friends, having abandoned her to chat amongst themselves? Was that office-worker her husband, dragged out here only to hide in his phone? She was almost old enough to be his date; he still had his hair, and if he was over thirty-five, you’d be hard pressed to find someone better-looking. But, she didn’t seem to mind. She was looking up at the screen, taking in the conversation taking place with a small smile across her thin lips.  
And then, she looked right at me.  
I flinched away almost immediately, making a small noise. Come to think of it, I’d been gaping at her for about a whole minute- No wonder she’d felt compelled to turn. I felt a hot sensation across my cheeks, and turned back to the movie.  
I felt like such a fool.  
-  
The rest of the movie played without incident; it was the story of a young professional and a homeless man falling in love and dropping out of society. Sappy, yes, but the execution was very much in line with French impressionists of the early sixties. When we stretched our legs in the lobby, Sarah thanked me for coming.  
“You make it sound like a chore.”  
As if she wasn’t stiff enough, Sarah clasped her hands and beamed at me.  
“Well, I’m glad you came. Nice to see you again!”  
“Yeah,” added Skye, “I didn’t expect you to show up.”  
More silence.  
“We’ll have to do it again sometime.”  
They agreed with me, chatted idly for a minute or two, and we went our separate ways. As the patrons emptied onto the street, they found themselves amongst a horrific downpour- myself included. I had left my car at Sylvester Park, and had to walk three blocks to get to it. The rain dumped into my coat, and I shivered; what a night for a stroll.  
When I reached the barber shop on Washington- about a block from the park- I found a black ‘59 Chevy.  
It was a rusty old four-door, but its design was still obvious: Lots of chrome, bubble glass and big, batwing tailfins. Though there were plenty of daily-driven classic cars in Olympia, it was always a treat to see one.  
This one was in trouble; its hood was up, and a woman was looking its engine over. She had a fur coat on, and it was caked from the rainwater. Her long, wavy hair was matted and plastered, and she huffed in frustration trying to keep it out of her eyes.  
I felt compelled to offer some sort of help. After all, I’d had car troubles in downtown Oly before, and, pouring rain or not, it was not a good place to be at night.  
“Need any help?”  
There was no doubt she did. She turned to me, and I was surprised to find that it was the same woman I had observed in the theater. Her sky-blue eyes ratcheted back and forth, studying me before her reply.  
“Yeah, my… car isn’t starting. I think it’s the starter, it’s been acting up lately.. Can you call somebody? I don’t carry a phone.”  
I nodded and grabbed mine. “Yeah, no problem, who-”  
An idea struck me.  
“Well, how far are you going?”  
She blinked. “...Less than a mile; I live around here… I don’t have triple-A, I was gonna ask my mother for a ride, but she lives in… Tacoma.”  
“Well, why don’t I give you a ride?”  
The mystery woman studied me some more, sizing me up probably. I was young and could probably put up a fight, but I was scrawny. If she had mace, I’d crumple cardboard under a hose. My mind raced; what if she says no? What if I sounded like a creep? Am I overanalyzing again?  
She gave me a questioning look. “I… wouldn’t want to be any trouble.”  
“No, by all means!” I gave her a toothy grin, trying to look good-natured. Frankly, I was worried I’d expose my stained, yellow teeth and scare her off. I dialed back the smile a bit before I continued. “..No, I .. I don’t have any plans, I was just going home. I live around here too.”  
She thought some more, the worry on her forehead softening. “Alright. Thank you so much.”  
Excitement welled within me; I tried not to let it show. “Hey, no problem. I’m.. parked over by the park. Just down there- The white Cadillac, see?”  
The big, chrome taillights of the Fleetwood Brougham loomed in the light of the streetlamps.  
“Yeah, the big, old one..”  
She nodded, and we made our way over, hopping in. As I warmed the big boat up, she began to straighten her hair. She took the liberty of pulling down a sun-visor and using one of my mirrors.  
“I can’t thank you enough,” she insisted, shedding her coat as my heater kicked on, “I really didn’t want to walk down here.”  
“It’s fine,” I said, “My mom’s told me horror stories about downtown Oly before. So, where do you live?”  
“The Angelus on 4th.”  
The Angelus, despite being out of my price-range, was a dingy, foul-smelling place. A single studio cost $725 a month. But, now that I got a good look at her, it seemed the coat was genuine mink; she was in her late-twenties, but already wore large, silver earrings and gaudy rings on her long, slender fingers. She was like a vision of a noble wealth that may never have existed. She could probably afford better, why would she settle for less?  
“Huh; you know, I tried to get an apartment there once, but it was too expensive… How are you liking it?”  
She gave me a small smile. She’d been brushing her hair, but stopped to devote her full attention to me, gazing into my eyes.  
“I like a building with history.”  
I felt some discomfort, looking away and putting the car in gear. As we pulled out, I tried to consider my next response, as if I was disarming a bomb. Suddenly, things felt rather tense.  
“I’m Tex,” I offered hurriedly.  
“Vivian.”  
I expected nothing less; her name did nothing to dispel her old money aura. She could have been my age, but the manner she dressed, acted and carried herself belonged to a confident career woman in her mid-thirties.  
And she was taller than me.  
“So, you live around here too?”  
I just about jumped out of my skin.  
“We-well, yeah, I… how do you know?”  
She seemed amused, and offered a small chuckle. “You mentioned it earlier.”  
I relaxed; so I had, then. I could vaguely remember mentioning it upon our first introduction by her car.  
“Yeah, I.. live up on the West Side, with my mom. I’ve lived here all my life. You?”  
“Well, I’ve been, well, all over the place. I lived up north when I was younger.”  
“Yeah, where?”  
“Leavenworth.”  
I let out a little burst of laughter at how incredulous it seemed.  
“You? You’re from Leavenworth?”  
She took it rather well; she gave a slightly subdued chuckle. “Come on, don’t pick on me!”  
“Alright, alright,” I admitted, “I went to Leavenworth before. I was on tour with my dad’s band at the time.”  
“What do you play?”  
“Well, nothing; I was a roadie, I guess-”  
“I see.”  
“-Mostly, I did the driving. I liked Leavenworth, though. It was really picturesque, and a lot of the newer construction actually did a decent job at capturing the whole, ‘Alpine’ feel. But, it felt so cheap, you know? Everybody tried to sell me something- thirty dollars for a steak, for God sakes- It felt insincere.”  
“Oh, I understand completely,” she added, chuckling again, “I mean, I actually went to Bavaria for school, and the difference is huge.”  
“That’s so cool.” Vivian, if only you knew how in awe I was of you.  
“It was a lot of fun,” she agreed, “Everything was so authentic, nothing like Leavenworth. It wasn’t an act! People actually live that way. It wasn’t an act for money, it was their nature.”  
I gave a slight sigh. “I’ve always wanted to travel, but I just haven’t found the time or money. The farthest I’ve been from my front door was Springfield, Hermiston and Yakima. I’ve never even left the country.”  
“But, you’re still young, Tex, you could do it whenever you wanted to.”  
To hear her say my name in her low, silky voice almost killed me. I was enthralled by her, and her travels, and the few things I knew about her. I wanted to know more.  
“Don’t let anybody hold you back,” she murmured, “It’s your life.”  
“Y’know, I keep forgetting.”  
At last, we arrived at the Angelus. It was an old three-story, originally built in 1897 as a hotel: Shops down below, two levels of apartments up top. Over the years, it’d been many things: Many people were killed there, there were drugs, and it was even a whorehouse in the seventies, my mom remembered that quite clearly. But, now, its evils lay dormant, and in their place were an ice-cream parlor, the Cascadia restaurant and Olympia’s cheapest apartments.  
We pulled up to the curb.  
“Thank you so much,” she gushed, “I’d probably have gotten mugged if I walked home alone.”  
“Hey, no problem! It was nice to meet you!” Except for the fact that I was sure I’d never see her again. Even if I asked for her phone number, or Facebook, or something, I’d seldom talk to her. I’d be too afraid, or we’d grow apart, or I’d simply forget, as odd as that sounded.  
She walked around to the driver’s side- The side the building was on, on this one-way avenue- and peered in at me, peering at my phone. I flinched when she knocked on the window. I tried to roll it down, but the switch was toast, so I simply opened the door.  
She leaned into me, her expression pure and curious. “Do you have to go anywhere?”  
My heart skipped, but I tried to play it straight. “Well, ah, no.. I don’t have school tomorrow, so I can stay out.”  
“Would you like to come in?”  
My heart skipped again. It took all my composure to keep myself from looking like Jerry Lewis after a stroke, but I managed.  
“..Yeah, I’d love to!”  
\----  
Vivian led me up the creaky, carpeted stairs to the apartments; I’d been there before, but not at night. Now, all the sounds of the old dwelling seemed eerie: The creaking floors were unseen spirits, the muffled dialogue of her tenants the whispers of ghosts. The lights were a dim yellow, but there was no warmth to them, and the shadows crept in.  
She had checked her mail on the way in; according to her dropbox, her last name was ‘Hearst’. I’d have asked, but I figured it’d be odd. I couldn’t get away with being perceptive; unlike her, I wasn’t alluring enough.  
I was relieved to find that her room reflected her appearance: Though the wallpaper was faded, it was period-correct to the building. Though the floors were scratched, they were a fine hardwood that shone bright. Several lit candles flickered in her window sills, which overlooked the traffic on 4th Ave. And, by God, she had her own bathroom.  
Needless to say, I was stunned. “This?...This is way better than what I looked at! How did you manage this?”  
Noting my enthusiasm, Vivian smirked. “That’s just it; I’m the manager.”  
“No kidding? For how long?”  
“The last few months; my employer found it quaint, and bought it sight-unseen.” She strode to her kitchen, her words drifting out behind her. “He’s a lot like me in that regard; he’s a fan of period architecture.”  
A mogul in Olympia. Well, it wasn’t uncommon in those days; the Rants Group controlled nearly all the downtown apartments, and high-rise developments were being planned. Hell, there were condos sprouting up by Pioneer Park, an area that was completely rural for most my life.  
“Where’s he from?” I choked back suggesting Portland, and sat on a twenties loveseat by the door.  
A cork popped in the kitchen. “Bavaria; I’d met him by chance during school. He’s amazing, beyond classification.. One of those noblemen you’d read about in fairytales, I suppose.”  
What would a German viscount want to do with Olympia?  
She returned momentarily, holding in her hand a glass of red wine, and sat upon her bed by the window. Yes, the magnificent room was still a studio, but it was a sizeable one.  
She continued after a sip. “It was by chance, really; I’d met him while studying abroad; he’d put a lot of the female students up at his estate, but took a keen interest in me.” She stopped to take another sip, and shudder slightly, eyelids jittering. “..I had… mentioned to him the situation- Oly growing, the old downtown, plenty of opportunity- and he latched onto it immediately.”  
Her changing mannerisms were not lost on me.  
“No kidding?”  
“Not in the slightest.” Recalling, her shoulders twitched and she chuckled. “He demanded I give him my address, and he wrote letters to me every month- How was I, what were real estate prices like, the works. I effectively became the man’s envoy.”  
I could see why. If I had a lot of money, I’d have put her up in a swanky apartment too. The woman drew me like moths to a flame, and she knew it.  
“Say, Tex?”  
I lurched out of lustful thought, to grunt my startled reply. “Y-yeah?”  
She simply rubbed the bed beside her, and looked me in the eyes. “Want to come sit by me?”  
Oh, no.  
She bent, and, from a chest below the queen frame, produced a large album, which she opened in her lap.  
“We can look at the pictures from my travels,” she explained with an air of amusement; she wanted me to know this was only her cover story. “How about that?”  
“Okay.”  
I got up to walk across the room, and suddenly, I was chilled. A panic overtook me, and I simply locked up in the middle of the room, staring at her. Vivian, expression unchanging, drank from her glass, and eyed me.  
“Coming, dear?”  
I was powerless to resist, and sat beside her. The bed sat in front of a window, and, behind her on the way over, I could see the traffic on 4th Ave, slowly filing past. I wished I was one of them- stuck in the motions of daily life, rather than in this woman’s grasp.  
With calculated delicacy, she turned the page, to reveal musty Kodachromes of Las Vegas, Nevada; by the tint and mold, they were old- much older than her, I’d guessed- and probably belonged to a relative.  
But, she proved me wrong. As she went over them, she talked as if she’d been there, breathed every minute of the trip. I started to think: Why would I be so scared now? This was what I had wanted. Given, I’d chickened out of similar adventures, but this was a thousand times worse; I felt like I was back in my childhood nightmares: Shadow people, unseen forces, darkness…  
“...I said, do you remember much about Yakima, David?”  
She had said my real name.  
And I had never told her.  
“What…?.... Yeah, a… a little, why?”  
“Lovely desert over there… I’d ought to take you.”  
She put her hand on my jawline, holding me like she’d held that glass. I felt her long, painted fingernails prodding my flesh, as she gave me her hypnotic stare.  
“Wouldn’t that be fun…?”  
“Yeah.” I didn’t have a say in it; I wanted to get out, but I couldn’t move. I’d been glued into place; the legs and arms refused to cooperate, despite my brain’s alarm bells clattering and screaming for locomotion- any locomotion- to get me out of there.

But, I was icy calm.  
She kissed me on the lips- Gently, at first, then our tongues danced. In that moment, I felt very pleased, the terror subsiding, as we gently collapsed onto the Queen mattress- her on top. Her long, dark locks dangled down, creating a screen between us and the rest of the room. She had her hands on my shoulders, pinning me, and I undid the top buttons of my shirt. She began to suckle my neck, nipping gently, like I’d did to my high-school dates. I wasn’t as sensitive, but bolts of pleasure shot through me. Each time, she’d nip a bit harder, and I’d jerk a bit in shock. My brain was warming over, submitting to Vivian and her gilded temptations. I was in a dream world, despite my raging erection, and I gave her a crooked grin.  
“Oh, my sweet,” she rumbled to me; it was so motherly and soft, without an inch of malice. “Be still, my sweet, be still…”  
Oddly, I felt at peace- Like I could sleep.. My eyelids grew heavier..  
And shot up when I noticed the dizziness.  
At last, a moment of clarity. I began to mumble, growing into a run-on of protest.  
“Hey, uh- I’m- I don’t feel good, can I-”  
“Be still, my sweet; you’re alright.”  
I tried to get up, but she held me there- gently, but firmly, as if to threaten.  
“Please, Viv-Come on, I gotta use the… I gotta use the can…”  
Her grip slackened. She couldn’t argue with that, and I rolled with it, growing bolder.  
“Please, don’t make me wet myself all over your nice… bed, c’mon…”  
With a sigh, Vivian let me up, and I stood up to find my feet unsteady.  
“You remember where it is, sweetheart?”  
“Yeah, right-..there.” The room was in front of me and to the right- in plain sight. Of course I knew where it was.  
“Now, take your time.”  
“I-I know how to use a bathroom, Viv..”  
I began to slide the door shut.  
“I’ll be waiting for you.”  
“Yeah.”  
Shhhhuck.  
The door slid shut.  
Wearily, I sat down to piss; no use dribbling all over her furry purple seat, or the conspicuous brass fittings. I wiped, flushed and got up to wash my hands.  
And that’s when I found the blood.  
I nearly shouted out when I found puncture wounds, all over my neck. Fresh blood was dribbling out of Vivian’s marks, forming little cascading streams like the rain outside. The fatigue began to fall away, as the adrenaline surged. I tore and shredded at the roll, patching my leaks, but I couldn’t make it. I felt the urge to return to her; to curl up, and sleep in her lap, and feel her ecstasy once again.  
The waves of energy were not coming, my drive faded. In my shape, I felt the room whirl, as if I was going to vomit. I began to fiddle with the doorlock, trying my damnedest to get out of this tiled hell. I couldn’t do anything but scratch weakly, and calmly note the blood dripping onto the floor.  
At last, I could not take it anymore. My knees buckled and I tumbled sideways, the broad side of my head striking the bowl of her spotless old toilet. I came to rest on the floor with the tunnel vision encroaching, my vision leaving me. My entire world was ebbing. All I could see now was the purple carpet, matted by my blood, and the thin sliver of light beyond the door.  
My eyelids were too heavy; I had to sleep. I closed my eyes for what I was sure would be the final time.  
I was empty.

..

I heard her.  
Lazily, I awoke to find myself back in the apartment; somebody stroked my eyes, somebody who smelt of sweet perfume and hummed a sweet melody in my ear..  
My head was nestled in the bosom of Vivian Hearst- once the pretty girl in the theater, now something infinitely beautiful- Something comforting, shining pale, and strangely maternal.  
She gave me her thin smile, her lips done up in a black that reflected nothing, swallowing all in its abyss. Her tall, well-proportioned build was now bare, her skin silky smooth against me under the mountains of blankets, and ice-cold- She gazed down at me, something like sympathy in her sedate expression.  
But, as I gazed into those eyes- those sky-blue orbs, cold as a winter’s day on the summit of Rainier itself- I saw nothing. There was no life in her, no life as I know it. She was not a human, not anymore. As her smile widened into a white, canine grin, I saw at once the fangs.  
“Hello, love,” she murmured, “Did you sleep well?”  
At once, I slipped one hand away from our embrace, and stuck it in my mouth. I had to know.  
It was sharp; all sharp.  
“The night is young,” she continued, “There’s much to do.”  
I had met destiny.

\------------------------------------------

we didnt come home  
we hadnt the desire to were still out  
They found my car but i  
Dont care  
I can fly now  
She can fly too  
we all can fly  
We run in the night  
We make trouble where we find it  
What would mom think

Am i dreaming


End file.
